


Smokin’

by Su_Whisterfield



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Su_Whisterfield/pseuds/Su_Whisterfield
Summary: Early days in the Westchester Mansion, how do you weaponise a circus acrobat?
Relationships: Logan/Kurt Wagner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Smokin’

**Author's Note:**

> Mature for Logan’s language and inappropriate thoughts about a team mate.

I’m watching our circus freak workin’ on the trapeze and enjoying a quiet stogie.

It’s a damn fine smoke, picked up a box or two doin’ some government work in Cuba few years back, and it’s a damn fine view of a strong young man workin’ up a sweat. He’s as graceful as a cat, all long lean arms, broad shoulders an’ those endless legs. An’ his practice kit is skin tight, don’t leave much to the imagination, if ya’ get my drift.  
Takes skill, that flying work does, most folk couldn’t do shit like that on the ground, let alone hurtling through the air. He twists mid-leap, doesn’t miss a beat, catches a bar, up and away.

Still not sure of my place here with this crowd. Not sure I’m really suited to workin’ with a team, prefer to be on my own. Perhaps I could take the Misfit on as a sidekick? Nah, he’s Mr Nice Guy, don’t think the sort of wetwork I do would suit him.  
Eh, but he’s easy on the eye though.

We need to get him better at self defence, he’s happy to learn but he’ll pull a punch, nine times out of ten ‘cos up ‘til now, he’s only done stage fighting. Need to get him a bit harder or he’s not gonna last long and that’d be a shame.

Sean is leanin’ on the rail next to me, chewin’ on an unlit pipe; Chuck has a thing about smokin’ inside the house, place is a goddamn kindergarten. The smoke from my cigar drifts above me in a blue haze.  
“See, if the laddie could drop from above, an’ then ‘port out real fast...” he muses. We’re trying to work on ways to weaponise the natural agility and acrobatic stuff. Sean’s been in the game for years, not as long as me, obviously, but he certainly knows a wrinkle or two. “Would work fine for plain folks, he’s just a bit too light against armour or someone enhanced.”  
I shrug. “That’s where ya’ send in me or young Petey, to soften them up.” Our big Ruskie could soften up The Hulk.  
“Be right handy if he could grab weapons and ‘port ‘em away,” he points with his pipe while the agile blue streak ‘ports half a dozen times from high on the rig to the ground. Would be damn useful if he could take off someone’s head or even just their arm. I did suggest it. Didn’t go down well. An’ I suppose that’s the team thing, different folks got different skills, knack is to get us working together.

He’s back on the ground now, stretching, on cool down, that body’s a well honed machine an’ he knows how to keep it right.  
Sean claps me on the shoulder and turns to go.  
“Right, me lad, I’ll be off. Tell our young show off that I’ll have a think on an’ give him some ideas.”  
“Sure.” I’m a bit distracted by those long, long legs. Fuck, he’s bending, stretching out his hamstrings. Sean goes through the door behind us, he’s smirking, I scowl, my distraction over the Misfit’s legs is none of his damn business. The cigar has gone out, I twist my heel on it.

“So, _Herr_ Wolverine,” That strong accent, slightly husky voice, he glances over, clocks that I’m alone, meanders across, still working on his arms. There’s a hint of a sly smile, this is a grown man, he’s certainly noticed me noticin’ him; and he can’t hide from my senses, I can smell his interest in me, even through the lingering smoke. Not that I think he’s bothered about hiding it. He’s young, but he ain’t a kid, he knows what he’s doin’.  
And me? I’m considering my options.  
“You have thought of some new and novel uses for my skills?” Up close, he smells fuckin’ gorgeous, musky and hot, that fur, holds the scent of him. The urge to just throw him up against the wall an’ give him a damn good seein’ to is awful tempting.  
“Can think of a thing or two.” I drawl, keeping eye contact. He’s real close now. He’s been a bit skittish round me ‘til now, he knows I’m dangerous, I think this is the first time we’ve been alone?

He looks at me an’ I see the moment he decides I’m only interested in him to fuck the freak. It’s like a shutter comes down, a shift in his shoulders, a change in his scent from slightly aroused to wary, like flipping a switch. Huh? What’s wrong with a quick fuck, no strings attached, a little bit o’ fun?  
‘Cept he is a freak, an’ some folks would just want to do him because of that. Not ‘cos he’s him. An’ that’s a shame.

I realise, quite suddenly, that I’m not sure I want to be that kinda guy. That looking like he does, life's gotta be a bit hard for him, that withdrawing himself, that’s his self defence, self preservation.  
He’s every right to be wary, he don’t know me yet, doesn’t know if he can trust me. That works both ways, not sure I want to work with someone who’s just a quick fuck either, I need to be able to trust him in a firefight. 

Let’s cool it, for now, time for a different tack.  
“Wanna go check out that bar Banshee found in town?”  
His shoulders relax again, and he’s kept eye contact throughout, he’s a sharp, brave lad.  
“ _Ja,_ ” he reaches for his towel. “I would love a good _bier_ , with some flavour. American beer...” he shakes his head, and I ain’t gonna argue with him over that.

Then, damn me, Summers is there, lookin’ down his nose at me, as he does. Well, he’s a mood killer, if ever there was one.  
“Ah, Wolverine, good, The Professor needs to talk to you about that paperwork.” Chuck is sorting me some legitimate papers, the Canadian government are being a bit pissy about it.  
“It can wait. I’m goin’ for a beer with the elf.”  
Summers looks at Kurt as though seeing him for the first time, he raises a cheery blue hand, flashes a toothy grin.  
“Er, no, no it can’t.” The fucking boy-scout scowls at me, he just loves being Chuck’s errand boy, makes him feel all important, bet ya’ he gets hard off it.  
“Do not worry _Herr_ Wolverine, we can take a rain-check on the beer.” Elf says with a shrug, and then he’s gone in a cloud of purple smoke and so’s my chance to get out of here for a while. An’ maybe nail that tail. Damn it.

I should stick to workin’ solo, it’s what I’m good at.  
I reach in my belt for a fresh stogie and matchbook, just to annoy Summers. That’s summat else I’m good at and it pays to keep in practice.

**Author's Note:**

> When The Misfit starts to become Elf in Wolverine’s head. And this is ages before anyone on the team knows his name.


End file.
